Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

Yes, I intentionally mixed my metaphors there, but seriously.  I drove 4 incredibly overtired kids home from Meridian, Idaho today, and then waded in to attack the unpacking and laundry.  (I also acquired 3 extra children, but that’s a story for another day.)  On the other hand, almost as soon as I review Shannon Hale’s The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl:  2 Fuzzy, 2 Furious, I can pass it on to my two oldest children (and get it off of my library card!).  Just be warned–this will NOT be a lengthy review.

Then again, Squirrel Girl:  2 doesn’t need one.  Doreen Green and her alter ego, as well as her BHFF and BSFFs, are back AND more fabulous than ever.  When a book has evil human/animal hybrids, a very sketchy mall, successful resolution of realistic friend problems, a (possibly super-) villainous English teacher, and 2.5 pages of totally awesome squirrel names, a review seems almost superfluous.  (And that’s not even counting the group texts with the Avengers.)  If you like Marvel movies, if you like relatable heroines–heck, if you like to laugh–do not miss Shannon Hale’s Squirrel Girl novels.

They will totally make your life better.

Okay, folks, I have to admit–the pace of this particular July is getting to me.  I’m going to take a 10-day break for some family time, so I’ll see you on the 29th.  May we all manage some sleep and R&R!

I’m 40 today, folks.  I’m still trying to decide how I feel about that–but the deciding is going to take some time, because I just got back from Youth Conference, and writing this review means putting off my LONG-awaited shower even longer.

It’s going to be a short review.

Andrea Beaty’s Cicada Summer—Secrets of the Cicada Summer in newer editions, actually–has been sitting on my shelf, waiting for me, because I have loved about all of the books by her that I’ve read.  When I started it I was thinking my second girlie might enjoy it, but I’m still on the fence about that; it’s a mystery, really, but it’s also a story about grief in its myriad guises, and I worry that with her personality, she’ll find that aspect a bit too sad.  (As a parent, I found it heartbreaking.)  All of the characters we spend time knowing have lost at least one someone who mattered, although not always to death.   (A few of the losses are reversible, but not many.)  Lily is an elective mute who hasn’t spoken since she lost her brother; Tinny is a girl with troubles of her own who comes to live with her great-aunt in Lily’s town.  Their families and stories intertwine, of course, in a beautifully told story that doesn’t shy away from the hard things children can face in life.  That hot shower is beckoning too strongly for me to say more, but I’d definitely recommend this one, partly because it ends on a cathartic and hopeful note.  Let me know what you think!

Tomorrow is going to be a crazy busy day for me, but I finished a book last night, and so you get two posts in a row.  Lucky you!

Hello, Universe won the 2018 Newbery Medal, and I’ve been even more excited to read it since I finished Blackbird Fly, because Erin Entrada Kelly is pretty great.  She gets into the heads of her characters in a way that makes even their frustrating traits feel as natural as breathing, and her plots are delightfully original.  I don’t want to give away too much of this one, but it involves Virgil, who is shy; Valencia, who is deaf; Kaori, who practices as a (middle grade!) psychic; and Chet, who is a bully.  (Also Gulliver–who is a guinea pig.)  Virgil is Kaori’s client, while Valencia is in some of Virgil’s classes; Chet bullies both of them.  When all of their lives collide in the woods on an early summer day, the results are unexpected–but certainly not coincidental.

The universe is speaking.

This was a delightful read from start to finish, folks.  If you’re looking for a book about friendship, loyalty, or finding your inner strength in a quiet, realistic way, don’t miss this one!

Forgive me for missing my last two posts–I went with my oldest to our church’s girls’ camp.  True, we were only there from Tuesday to Thursday, but there was a horn-honking train that came through at midnight-ish, 4 am-ish, and 7:30-ish–AND a farmer less than half a basketball court from my cot who was BALING HAY at 1 in the morning.  (I don’t recall seeing a hay baler before, by the way.  They are MONSTER machines.)  Add a homesick crying girl at 2:30 am (not mine) and a not-impressively-comfortable cot (mine, sadly), and not so much with the sleeping.

I’m still trying to recover.

On the other hand, since this is officially the Summer of Trying to Read All the Books in my Room that my Children are Waiting for, I need to review Cynthia Lord’s Half a Chance, which my almost-10-year-old picked out at the library and which I finished last night.  (Note–I was thrilled that she picked it, frankly.  She tends to zero in on cheesy girl drama books, and Lord is a Newbery-winning author!)

So–first and foremost, yay New England!  Half a Chance takes place in New Hampshire, and there are some lovely descriptions.  Also, yay loons!, because they figure largely in the plot, and a loon call is a haunting sort of sound that is not easily forgotten.  As far as the point of the plot, it felt a little formulaic at first–a coming-of-age story about a girl trying to find her place in a new town while seeking recognition of her talents from her photographer dad.  Ultimately, however, this is just as much a book about dementia’s effect on its victim and those around her, and Lord does an excellent job of using the people involved to showcase the importance of talking about what’s happening, instead of allowing it to become the elephant in the room.  I liked the ending especially, which didn’t feel formulaic and yet hit all of the most important notes.  It’s a quick read (less than 220 pages) that should appeal to wildlife lovers as well as readers looking for female leads, an adjusting-to-change storyline, or boy/girl friendships that don’t stray into unrealistic or inappropriate romance.  Let me know what you think!

I didn’t realize until I started it that The Lost Kingdom of Bamarre is a prequel to The Two Princesses of Bamarre, not a sequel, but it most certainly is; Drualt is a boy of 9 instead of a legend.  I’m not sure which one I’d choose to read first if I could do it over again, but they definitely enrich each other.  Anyway.  I’m feeling a list sort of review tonight–I’m not sure why–so here goes:

1.  There are echoes of McKinley’s The Hero and the Crown here; Aerin and Perry share the burden of championing their people and straddling two worlds.
2.  There are also echoes of Moses, the Jewish ‘Prince of Egypt’, and the Israelites, who were accustomed to slavery and struggled with the “it gets worse before it gets better” aspect of rebellion.
3.  The Beneficences feel very like the Nuremberg Laws.
4.  The Rapunzel element is–odd.  The stolen child element works, although Lady Klausine’s character dichotomies stretch believability, but the hair element?  It just feels incongruous.
5.  Lost Kingdom is seriously political.  Remember Princess Academy:  Palace of Stone?  Political like that, except that Hale’s politics had more of an Imperial Russia feel.
6.  In both Bamarre books, Gail Carson Levine explores the concepts of heroism versus cowardice.  I might have liked an exploration of honor in Lost Kingdom, but her way made for a tighter story.
7.  Maybe there’s a faint Tolkien element?  But probably just in the ‘everyone who writes fantasy is influenced by Tolkien’ kind of way.

Okay, I’m done listing.  This was not quite the book I was expecting, but I was moved by it all the same.  Fans of Levine, of strong female characters, of complicated sister relationships, and possibly of Robin McKinley (but then, who isn’t a fan of Robin McKinley????) shouldn’t miss this one.

I grabbed Kayla Miller’s Click out of the library for my second girlie, whose obsession with graphic novels is legendary.  The art has a familiar feel (Miller was obviously influenced by Raina Telgemeier, not that there’s not plenty of that going around!), but the story is a bit of a different sort.  Olive has lots (and I mean lots!) of friends, but when it comes time to choose acts and groups for the 5th grade variety show, she finds herself unattached, so to speak; it’s an unaccustomed feeling for her, and she doesn’t like it.  Thanks to her supportive family, however–and some self advocating at key moments–Olive finds her place while learning to appreciate her friends on a slightly deeper level.

I admit, it took me longer to get into this one.  It’s geared toward its audience in a way that has less relevance for me–or perhaps I just can’t relate to someone who’s friends with everyone?  (I was never broadly popular.)  As Olive’s story progressed, however, the moments of humor, of familial love, and of communicating in ways that preserve both friendships and truth drew me in.  I’m not–quite–passionate about it, but it’s a nice story…and my nearly-10-year-old is almost certainly going to adore it.  If you’ve got an elementary schooler who looks for graphic novels, friendship stories, or books that give you ideas about how to be yourself, Click needs to be on your radar.

My friend Andrea picked Book Scavenger for book club once upon a time, and hey, look at me–I’m still playing catch-up!  (At least I’m playing it more successfully than I once was, right?)  I finished it yesterday on the elliptical, thanks to audiobooks, and I’ve been trying to place exactly how I feel about it ever since.

On the one hand, it’s sort of about the Willy Wonka of book publishing, so what’s not to love, right?  He’s already launched one book hunting/reading/hiding game that’s popular on an international level, and he’s about to launch a new game when he’s attacked in a BART station (which apparently stands for Bay Area Rapid Transit and is San Francisco’s version of a subway).  The book he was going to use to launch said game is found by Emily Crane, who has just moved to SF as part of her family’s quest to live in all of the 50 states.  Emily is elated and determined to play the game through to its conclusion; she and her new friend James are soon travelling around San Francisco, looking for clues.  Can they finish the game before the various people looking for the book Emily found catch up with them?

On the other hand, while it’s definitely intermediate fiction, it’s also a mystery–and more of a thriller than a cozy, which is my preference.  At 343 pages, Book Scavenger is long enough to have plenty of characterization, but I felt like a decent portion of that potential was sacrificed for the sake of ciphers and codes.  The city of San Francisco probably got as much characterization as anyone but Emily, although that was likely intentional; it was as much of a character as some of the people in the story were.  (I likely would have enjoyed that if it had been an east coast city, but I’m not all that familiar with San Francisco.)

Ultimately?  Book Scavenger is a fun enough read for book lovers that I’m going to finish out the trilogy; its truest audience, however, is going to be mystery and code lovers.  Emily and James (and Matthew!) are a nice team, however, and that dynamic is a definite plus.  I’m looking forward to seeing where Jennifer Chambliss Bertman takes it.

My friend Britt picked The Nocturnals:  The Mysterious Abductions for book club forever ago; it’s been sitting on my shelf since then, until it occurred to me a month or so ago that it would make an excellent read-aloud for my three older kiddos.  We have, accordingly, been reading it together in the evenings, once my youngest is in bed, and last night I rashly told the kids we could probably finish it, thinking we had 20-25 pages left.

We had 40.

We did finish it–triumphantly!–but yowsers, my voice was tired by the end.  (They’re varying degrees of excited for the next one, by the way, with my soon-to-be-10-year-old the most so.)  Mysterious Abductions is a quirky series opener, all things considered; a fox, a pangolin, and a sugar glider form a ‘Nocturnal Brigade’ and investigate the disappearance of a seemingly random assortment of animals of the night.  Add some intense coyotes and snarky bats to the mix–not to mention a sweet-natured wombat–and you’ve got quite the cast of characters (especially since the sugar glider is head-over-flaps for the fox).  My favorite part of reading it to the kiddos was the fun we had googling pictures of animals that we’d never seen before, but it also kept us engaged; my second girlie in particular was ALWAYS dejected when we stopped reading for the night.  Overall, although it’s maybe a little less my thing, it was a great read-aloud; animal-loving elementary schoolers should most definitely give it a try.

Gordon Korman’s Ungifted is the kind of ride that makes you laugh a lot but tear up a little; its sequel, Supergifted, is a near-perfect follow-up.  Donovan Curtis is back at his regular middle school after his memorable stint at the Academy for Scholastic Distinction, but bona fide genius Noah Youkilis has managed to get himself out of that Academy at last and is now Donovan’s classmate.  His social cluelessness might make you wince a bit, but watching him, Donnie, the head cheerleader, and the super-jock get tangled into a community-wide series of madcap events/situations/adventures makes for pure entertainment.  Donovan’s well-meaning impulses (and almost total lack of impulse control) ensure his likability as well as his relatability, making Supergifted an excellent pick for latter elementary and middle school readers.  If you’ve got a boy who’s hard to please, or a tween of either gender looking for a fun-filled read that stretches believability while firmly remaining in the realistic fiction/school story camp, Gordon Korman is a sure bet.

Really?  If you’re older, say in your (very!) late 30s, for instance, you may find him just as enjoyable.  Don’t miss out!